


Shadow of Heaven

by brevitas



Series: Path to Paradise [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Christian Mythology AU, Explicit Language, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:12:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brevitas/pseuds/brevitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac tests lust on an unsuspecting angel, and Grantaire strikes a deal with Enjolras to get him to never to do it again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow of Heaven

Grantaire waits to tell Bahorel and Courfeyrac about his discovery until he's returned to Hell. It's later that evening (he spent a few more hours in New Orleans, hoping Enjolras might mercifully return) and he's going home empty-handed and aching for a drink.

He finds his partners in their favorite bar, a joint called Alcohol Abuse Center that's classier than a place he would have been a regular at when alive but still homey enough that he really doesn't give _that_ big of a shit. Cour's already drinking and Bahorel is telling him about the mark he had today, some loud bimbo who he wasn't really surprised to learn was on a path leading straight down here.

Courfeyrac sees him first and waves him over and Bahorel glances at him, sipping at his whiskey. "So we manage to get you a second chance and you send him running?"

Grantaire snorts as he sits down between them, waving the bartender over and ordering a beer. "You know what they say--third time's the charm," and Courfeyrac laughs.

"But seriously," he says, watching Grantaire. "What happened?"

Grantaire has told them nothing about these new 'powers' because he's not sure how to bring it up. Bahorel already hates authority and Courfeyrac isn't keen on orders so he can't imagine either will be too terribly pleased to find out that they have been consistently lied to since their deaths. He drains his beer in a few hard swallows and Bahorel cocks an eyebrow.

"That bad?"

"Listen." Grantaire sets down his empty beer and folds his hands together. "I found out something today. Something that, uh, I don't think any of us are supposed to know."

Always a sucker for a good conspiracy theory, Courfeyrac eagerly leans in. "What is it?" He asks, dropping the volume of his voice lest anyone overhear.

"Apparently we, as demons, have the ability to uh, encourage sinning in others? Like we just have to think about a specific sin really hard and then any humans around us feels it too."

Bahorel is staring at him, and swirls his whiskey while he thinks. "That seems legitimate," he finally says, and Grantaire lifts an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, legitimate? I've never even heard of something like this." Bahorel grins and Grantaire says, "C'mon, man, when did you find out?"

"I didn't know demons could do it," he answers, "But I figured angels could. Haven't you ever noticed how people get around them?'

And now that Grantaire is thinking about it he had; when an angel walked among them humans were always more lenient and kind, had a greater penchant for smiling at one another and introducing themselves to strangers. He'd always just chalked it up to angel mojo and never took it past that.

Courfeyrac whistles as he too makes the same connection, shaking his head. "Damn, that's cool." He's quiet for all of about three seconds before he says excitedly, "Wait, does lust work?"

"Uh." Grantaire scratches at his chin and Bahorel glances at him, takes a second look when he realizes his friend's expression.

"No," he says, a grin blossoming. "Oh no, you did, didn't you?"

"Did what?" Courfeyrac asks, peering between the two of them. "What are we talking about?"

"Nothing," Grantaire groans, setting his head down on the bar, and Bahorel laughs.

"He tried to seduce that angel friend of his." Bahorel sniggers, taking another drink of his whiskey. "Dumbass."

Courfeyrac slaps Grantaire on the back. "It's not _too_ bad, R. I mean, at least you got to see that it worked?"

Grantaire makes a noise similar to a wounded animal and his friends both laugh, those bastards. Eventually they wheedle the whole story out of him and Courfeyrac can't help but cracking some jokes about how Grantaire must be a terrible Casanova if his date literally ran away from him.

They seperate when it gets later and promise to meet up again tomorrow afternoon, all of them having been assigned individual jobs in different parts of the world. They agree to have lunch in Paris thanks to Courfeyrac's insistent begging and part like old friends, with a few grins and slaps on the back and "Goodnight"s.

+++++

Courfeyrac's alarm goes off at six, which wakes him up only enough to bitch. "Thought I was done with this time bullshit," he grumbles as he stands in the shower, lethargically applying shampoo to his hair. "Fucking clocks."

But he's in Wyoming as scheduled and finishes his assignment with time to spare (it was rather simple, admittedly, but he won't tell the guys that) so he decides to go to Paris early. It's a quick trip and he easily finds a seat on the coffeeshop's front patio and to keep himself entertained he starts counting the souls that walk by, giving one point to the angels for those destined to Heaven, and one point for his team for those destined to Hell.

He's up to 208 Heaven and 139 Hell when a gust of hot wind stirs his hair. Immediately he sits up because he knows what it is; an angel's descent.

It doesn't take him long to see the shimmering wings and he grins when he recognizes the man wearing them. It's that slender fellow from before, the one that had got him caught when he'd been spying for Grantaire. He's adorned his braided hair with a stargazer lily today, the big palm-sized bloom tucked behind his ear, and the wild pink of the flower immediately draws the eye.

Courfeyrac watches him and knows the second he feels a demon because the young man shivers, rubbing a hand up and down his arm. He scans the crowd and sees Courfeyrac, frowns a bit when all he does is wink.

He would have left it at that had he not remembered what Grantaire said about the sins effecting angels and, consumed with curiosity, he starts to think. It's not hard to picture what it might be like with the man standing not ten feet from him, and after a while, his imagination gets the better of him. He starts thinking of uncovering the man's skin inch by inch, memorizing the scars that would linger from his human days and wondering what had given them. He can't help but wonder how he would smell, like a hundred different flowers and ink too--he looks like a writer, with his restless hands and the intent way he watches people.

Courfeyrac stands up without knowing what he's doing and the angel starts to walk towards him, his cheeks flushed. He's started to wonder how it might feel to trace intricate, freezing designs onto the curve of his ribcage when the angel reaches him, and he's prepared to be backhanded--what he's not ready for is the way the man jumps at him, throwing his arms around Courfeyrac's neck to support himself and distributing the weight by wrapping his legs around his waist.

Courfeyrac's breath is knocked out by the force and he falls back in his chair, narrowly avoiding landing on the cement, but he forgets that worry in about ten seconds flat because the angel has found the buttons to his shirt and is meticulously undoing each of them, slipping one nimble hand in when he frees enough.

His fingers burn when they brush skin and Courfeyrac's gasp is strangled by the heat flooding his chest. Courfeyrac is much older than Grantaire and Bahorel combined and he'd forgotten what this felt like, the rush of scorching passion.

The angel's kissing his throat now and it feels the same, Courfeyrac's pulse jumping between his lips. He's whispering "Thou shalt not"s into his skin as he traces the curve of Courfeyrac's jaw, the petals of the lily brushing the demon's cheek.

When his hands slide lower and he curls thin fingers around Courfeyrac's waistband he groans, "Christ," and hitches upward, then yips when the angel bites him, his teeth worrying the soft flesh of his throat. "Don't take the Lord's name in vain," he mumbles and Courfeyrac, who has never cared for religion and couldn't possibly be more turned on, thinks maybe he has a kink for being reprimanded by flustered angels.

Courfeyrac has by that point completely forgotten they're in public at all, and apparently so too has the angel, since he's unzipping his pants and about to slide a feverish hand in when-- " _Jehan!_ "

Courfeyrac, who has no idea who the hell 'Jehan' is, ignores the yelp, but the angel jolts like he's been shocked and looks guiltily over his shoulder. A tall freckled man is standing there blushing, and chewing his bottom lip, and he looks more thoughtful than shocked, which Courfeyrac doesn't understand until he realizes the damn haloed jackass is thinking of chastity and disrupting his own sin.

Jehan, as that is apparently the flowered angel's name, quickly climbs off Courfeyrac's lap and retreats to his partner, mumbling something as he joins him, fixing the precarious position of the bud in his hair. Courfeyrac only hears, "No, Marius, I'm not sure _what_ happened," before the new angel hustles Jehan off, glancing almost nervously back at Courfeyrac as they go.

Courfeyrac isn't sure he can stand, and feels langurous and full and chaste (fucking assholes), but he manages enough energy to snag a connection to his partners, reclining in his chair and ignorant of the people staring at him behind coffee cups. _Not to make anyone jealous_ , he begins, and Grantaire snorts, _But I just made out with an angel._

For a second both are silent, then Bahorel's laughing and asking, _Was it Grantaire's?_ and Grantaire is saying at the same time, _You better not have seduced Enjolras._

Courfeyrac grins. _No, it wasn't Enjolras, and, by the way, I am truly distressed you two would even think I'd ever touch someone you've claimed with a ten foot pole but anyway, it was his little friend. Jehan, I think they called him._

_They?_ Grantaire asks and Courfeyrac produces a dramatic sigh.

_Yeah, one of his friends showed up and abducted him. Right before he got to the best part too._

Bahorel wisely chooses not to respond to that but Grantaire does, though not in the way predicted. _Are you fucking serious?_ He snaps. _Enjolras is going to think I hang out with rapists._

Courfeyrac blinks at that, says slowly, _You_ are _a demon, you know_ , and Grantaire snorts.

_If this fucks up anything for me, I'll hurt you_ , he says, then jerks the connection away from Courfeyrac and his line disappears. It's similar to hanging up on a phone call and Courfeyrac says, stunned, _He hung up on me_ , while Bahorel laughs.

+++++

Grantaire had figured that Enjolras would have some choice words for him about his rapist companion but predicted he'd be safe for a few days at the least. It can't be easy to find a demon in a place as crowded and sinful as America, after all, and there is definitely safety in numbers when he has an avenging angel to worry about.

He is proved unpleasantly wrong when, while leaving the crime scene of his mark's first successful murder, he feels the sultry breeze of an angel's wing. "Shit," he says under his breath, has only managed to get halfway down the street when someone falls into step beside him.

"I was not expecting you to tell others so quickly," Enjolras remarks, sounding awfully calm considering.

Grantaire, of course, interprets this as a warning sign, and makes sure there's a good distance between them. He very purposefully tries to think of nothing at all lest he get distracted looking at Enjolras (because my god, even if he wasn't trying it would be nearly impossible not to imagine what it might be like to have him) and then belatedly realizes he hasn't answered.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he says hurriedly. "Sorry. Cour's my partner. I told Bahorel too."

He looks supiciously at the angel because he's pretty sure he's fucking with him via a virtue but Enjolras merely frowns a bit and glances over when he feels the weight of Grantaire's eyes. "Would you mind telling your friend to leave mine alone? I can't have Jehan or Marius distracted by _sex_."

He wrinkles his nose when he says it, and Grantaire kind of gets a sinking feel in his stomach when he realizes that Enjolras looks utterly disgusted by even the idea.

"Ah," he says vaguely. "Certainly."

Enjolras begins to turn away and instinctively Grantaire grabs his forearm and says quickly, "No, wait, actually, I won't. I won't tell him to stop unless you'll do something for me."

There's a kindling of anger in his blue eyes but he faces Grantaire again, pulling his hand away and folding his arms across his chest. "What could you possibly want from _me_ , Grantaire?"

He hasn't really thought this far ahead and is getting distracted by the ridiculous color of Enjolras' eyes, so he grabs the first thing he can think of and says, "Go on a date with me." When Enjolras just stares at him he rolls with it, adds, "It'll be over real fast and barely painful and right afterward I'll tell Courfeyrac to stop stalking your friend."

Enjolras frowns and glances at the sky before saying like a man condemned to his execution, "Fine. One date."

Grantaire tries not to look too much like an eager schoolgirl and Enjolras sighs. "Tomorrow night at seven thirty, Vienna." He gives him the name of the restaurant and says, "If you're more than three minutes late I'm leaving."

Grantaire nods quickly and Enjolras allows a minute smile when he adds, "Wear something nice," and walks back into the crowd.

**Author's Note:**

> ugh guys I am so sorry this took so long (three days, people, I am a nightmare) but here it is so forgive me? I'll try to be faster, I had a lot of personal bullshit to deal with lately but I think I'm over the hump
> 
> uh notes for this chapter... nothing, really, I think everything should be really clear. sorry about how vague the Jehan/Courfeyrac scene was, I knew Courfeyrac didn't know his name and I didn't want to use it due to that, so yeah, I'm hoping it makes sense? :)
> 
> kisses to all you folk you're lovely, more updates shall be coming soon
> 
> tumblr is idfaciendumest if you want to follow and talk to me I really like getting asks and friends, just saying <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Tout Ange est terrible](https://archiveofourown.org/works/718555) by [Phileas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phileas/pseuds/Phileas)




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